Note: With both the pastor and the deacon being too ill to conduct the service during this period of pandemic, this sermon is being distributed to the parish to be read in the home.
22 March 2020
Text: John 6:1-15
In the name of +
Jesus. Amen.
We
live in an age of convenience. We have
stores open 24 hours. We enjoy exotic
foods from around the world any time we want. We can choose between dozens of flavors of ice
cream, and meats and vegetables, and delicacies are available on demand in our
refrigerators and freezers.
We
have smartphones and streaming and thousands of TV channels dedicated to every possible
interest. We live longer than our
ancestors, and we don’t even have to make or repair our own clothes. Unlike our ancestors, we don’t have to worry
about things like princes going to war against each other and sending soldiers
to burn down our houses. We don’t have
to deal with the bubonic plague.
We
certainly have it easier than the Lutherans in the 1600s, as the Thirty Years War
and the plague wiped out entire populations. Pastor Martin Rinkart conducted 4,000 funerals
– including his wife’s – in a single year. He did what he could for the starving people –
who fought over dead cats and birds in the streets. In response to this hard life, he wrote the
beautiful hymn: “Now Thank We All Our God.”
Our
lives are today much easier. And ironically,
that is part of the problem.
It’s
hard for us to relate to our Lord’s feeding of the five thousand when we are
laden with so much plenty and convenience. In fact, we might turn up our noses at being offered
mere barley bread and fish. We would
certainly be demanding an appetizer and a dessert, and we might even post
complaints on Yelp about the meal.
We
have lost touch with what it means to be in danger of life and limb, of running
into shortages of crucial items, and of our dependence on God for our lives
with each breath that we draw.
Our
churches throughout the land are shrinking as parishioners are distracted by
shiny things on Sunday mornings instead of the one thing needful: the Word of God
as delivered in preaching and in the Sacraments. We see it again and again in Scripture: as
the Lord blesses us, we begin to think we don’t need Him. We turn up our noses at Him. We despise preaching and His Word.
And
then all of the sudden, everything changes.
It
might be a diagnosis. It might be a
loved one in an accident. It might be a
pandemic and stock market crash. And
then we realize how frail our lives really are, and how dependent we are upon God’s
mercy – mercy that we too often take for granted. And now we are unable to gather in the church
to hear the Word of God and to receive the Sacrament.
Too
often, we think we are lords and Jesus is our servant. We expect Him to do things our way instead of
submitting to how He designed things to work. Every sin, great and small, is a rebellion
against the created order. And in the Scriptures,
dear friends, we see it again and again where God’s people grumble and try to
tell God how things should be. But their
arrogance is often checked by hunger or sickness or by an invasion by a cruel
enemy. It seems like these are the only
times we will fall to our knees, submit to God’s will, and plead for mercy.
And
how quickly everything can change.
After
our Lord fed the five thousand, the crowds had it in their mind to crown Jesus
king. But that was their will, not the Father’s. For the Father had a different crown in mind
for our Lord. And even as they were
preparing to impose their will on Him “by force,” our Lord “withdrew again to
the mountains by Himself.”
Yes,
indeed, how quickly everything can change.
But
one thing that doesn’t change, one thing is constant, and that is the mercy of God
shown to us in our crucified and risen Lord. Jesus will continue to feed us, even though He
may well have withdrawn from us for a time. He has not abandoned us, but He has certainly
called us to repent of our ill-placed confidence and our taking for granted the
blessings of gathering around the altar, the font, and the pulpit.
All
of the things that distract us from worship – be they sports or vacations or parties
or just the feeling of being in control and not having to submit to anyone –
have all fallen by the wayside. We are
without excuse, dear brothers and sisters.
We are being called to repentance.
We are being called to humility. We
are being called to fall upon our knees and to give thanks to the Lord for all
of the blessings we have taken for granted. We are being called to pray for mercy and
forgiveness and to recommit our lives and our church to the Gospel, for each
one of us to join together in a chain that strengthens the faith of each other.
We are being called to put our trust in God,
not in princes or presidents or doctors or scientists. God works through all of these vocations, but
it is God who is in charge. We are
called upon to stop praying “My will be done” and once more pray “Thy will be
done.” There is a reason our liturgy
includes the prayer: “Lord, have mercy” at the beginning. How often we just sing these words out of
habit. But this is now our urgent
prayer, dear friends.
We
are being called to return to the Word of God, which is more important than any
movie or TV show or sporting event that until a few days ago seemed so
important. We are being called to bear
one another’s burdens and to love our neighbor.
We
are being called to see ourselves once again as salt and light in the world (instead
of just blending in), and to be prepared to live and die as men and women
redeemed by Christ Jesus, without rushing into martyrdom, and without fleeing
our cross. We are called to serve in the
ways that we are called to serve. And
when we live our lives according to His will, dear friends, we will have joy no
matter what comes in this life. And as
we patiently wait for when we can again gather around the altar, the font, and
the pulpit, let us look forward in anticipation to the Easter Feast, no matter
when it will be celebrated.
This
particular Sunday in Lent is known as Laetare, based on the Latin verb “to be
happy.” It is a little break in the
gloom of Lent that looks forward to the joyful celebration of Easter. It is part of our calling to be salt and light
for the world to be seen rejoicing even in the midst of suffering, for this is
an act of faith in the promises of Jesus.
Pastor
Rinkart understood this even in the midst of four thousand funerals. If Jesus could feed five thousand, surely He
can, and will, raise the four thousand. And
no matter how our patience is tried by circumstances in this world, we know
that a better world is yet to come.
And
so, come what may, we can indeed join Pastor Rinkart at the edge of the grave,
and we can sing with joy:
Oh, may this bounteous God
Through all our life be
near us,
With ever joyful hearts
And blessed peace to cheer
us
And keep us in His grace
And guide us when perplexed
And free us from all ills
In this world and the next.
Amen.
In the name of the Father
and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment